


Your Greatest Weapon

by alyxpoe



Series: Always and Forever [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Blood, Gen, M/M, Violence, johnlock up to you to decide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:25:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyxpoe/pseuds/alyxpoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tomorrow I will describe it all in detail to those who care to know. Except for this. I glance over at you, your face relaxed, your hands lying on your thighs. Rainwater still drips from your hair, it shines from the rays of the rising sun. It fills up my heart. This I keep to myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Greatest Weapon

It is so dark. I can hear you breathing, but I cannot see your face. We are steady, waiting. Always waiting. The darkness pushes down on me like a blanket meant to smother. I can hear my own heartbeat, the rush of blood behind my ears. I am not even sure now if my eyes are open or if they are closed. I listen to your respiration and I unconsciously count every breath. I imagine that I can see your eyes flashing in non-existent moonlight. I imagine you as the hunter this night. Midnight crept past.

A tiny sound, a small _crack_. I imagine that you turn your head and attempt to pinpoint the motion like a wolf scanning for prey. In this inky blackness I cannot see you, but I can feel you behind me all the same. You tower over me at times, it is true. Not when I take the lead. Another _crack_ and a muffled voice. Heavy footsteps. Murmurs in the night. There are no other sounds, not even crickets chirping. Maybe they feel the tension as we do. Of course, there is something so _otherworldly_ about you anyway, so maybe that is the cause for the silence.

If it were daylight, there would be trees overhead. Birds and small mammals awake, alert, hunting, feeding, living and dying. Not in the dark, no. Everything in the world at this moment is on edge. The edge. This edge that we live on.

You shuffle your feet slightly behind me. I feel your presence looming over me; it is welcome. Without seeing, I can envision every muscle in your body taunt like a stalking tiger. Anytime now. I am ready. I have no need to ask you if you are. I can tell, I can read you the way you read me like the morning newspaper. Without spite or any hidden agenda. We are a team. Whether it was fate or gods and goddesses or even coincidence that brought us here together, at this moment I am completely fulfilled. If you are the hunter, then I am your weapon, silently waiting at your side. The breeze has picked up slightly and it smells of rain.

Your hand on my shoulder, a steadying touch. Your fingers burn holes through my shirt. The night is dark but it is not cold, though the shudder I suppress would say otherwise. It isn't true. I stand up fully now, no longer crouching on the soft grass. Your fingers are tight against my shoulder. You don't need to tell me that this could end in a fight. My primaeval instincts to fight and protect are keyed up, ready. Your hand is gone, leaving a warm but empty place.

 _Snap_. Another branch breaks loudly under a booted foot. We can hear them clearly, just as if they were right beside us. I can feel you nod your head. I reach behind my back and gently tug my weapon from its hiding place. It is a comfortable weight in my hand. As quietly as possible, I push off the safety. I hear the swish of material as you drop your coat to the ground. That tells me everything. Earlier, you did not expect this to get ugly, but now? It's fine, though. That is as close to admitting you may have been mistaken as you ever get, so I can take it. It did take some time; I put the past behind me. You did, too. Now there is only this. As if giving us its blessing, a tiny sliver of moon peeks out from heavy clouds. I am serene.

As all top hunters do, we give them no warning. You don't need to tell me how many nor do I need to ask which one you want. In the faint moonlight (you would not hesitate to tell me that the moon has none of its own light, but merely reflects the light from the sun back to the earth but that matters very little to the present situation) I turn towards the man with the meaty fists while you grab the second one, whose girth is almost your height, around the middle. We take them down quickly and you turn to me, breathing heavily. I can just make out that satisfied smirk as I snap the plastic bands around their wrists. I draw closer to you and your head dips toward me...

Fireworks in my vision. I feel myself hit the ground and I feel my weapon drop from numb fingers. I fight the even deeper darkness and stagger to my feet. I take the person who just bashed me over the head out at the knees. There is a surprised sound and a soft grunt as the figure hits the ground. I am only slightly surprised to see that this is a woman. I give her a swift hit in the jaw and almost apologize, but there is no time to ponder the workings of criminal minds. I need to be moving; not knowing precisely where you are has my instincts kicking into overdrive. There's only one mind that is important to me at this moment. My fingers touch against the handle of my weapon and soon it is locked in my fist.

I hear grunts from blows and realize it is pouring. The rain is making it difficult to pinpoint exactly where you are. I am out of the plastic zip ties; somewhere I vaguely hope that the female will stay down long enough for me to get to you. Over the pounding rain I can hear your voice. This really is not the time to berate the criminal, I know you are fully aware of this. Your voice, however, leads me right to you. You never do anything by halves, do you?

The man that has been accused of running a sex slave operation is taller than you. I can barely make the two of you out between the water falling in my face and the lack of light. What I can see, however, is quite disturbing. As is the shine of metal that I can just make out. Or I can hope that was your eyes. Your mouth is still going your voice rolling with the cadence of the storm around us. I can only hope the DI never hears you actually giving pointers to the criminals on how to be _better_ at what they do. He'd probably shoot you and I don't even want to imagine what he would do to me. I have no control over that particular function of yours. You can, however, put it to better use, like shutting up so he will stand still perhaps?

A slight peal of thunder and a quick flash of lightning and we can see each other if only for an instant. I have got to be fast. That machete he is holding is no penknife. Even I cannot stitch up the damage that fucker can do. He is shouting at you now, telling you to shut up, shut up, shut up! The next flash of lightning is bright enough that I can see how red his face is; he is walking that edge. I cannot screw this up now. You have dropped your head so that I have a clear shot. If I want to take it. Does anyone else see you like this? Does anyone else really understand what you just did?

With the rain running down my face, I lift my weapon. I pull back the hammer and lightly lay my finger on the trigger. His voice is getting louder, the tone getting higher in pitch. Part of me wants you to shut up because you are playing with fire; but another part of me knows that as long as you are talking you have a chance of keeping his attention on your words and not the nasty piece of weaponry in his hand. Lightning again, somehow the thug still has not seen me. Maybe he thinks his partner took me down for the count. Keep thinking that you child-raping bastard. Keep thinking that.

A flash of light and I can see that somehow you have him turned with his side to me. I wait and steady my breathing. Thunder rolls its deep voice over our heads. Lightning splits the sky... _now._ I pull the trigger and the man slumps, almost taking you to the ground with him. The machete falls into the mud, making a strange squelching sound. I walk over to you, you are trembling and strangely not talking. Are you hurt? No. I look down at the thug who has proudly earned my bullet to wear as his own for all time. I prod him with my boot. With that much of his face missing, I know there is no doubt, but I need to be sure. Water pools around his body and turns the mud red. The rain is starting to slow. Once again, your hand on my shoulder, long fingers burning new warmth into my body. I look up to you, your head is bowed, thumbs working your phone quickly. The phone disappears back into your pocket. We walk away from the expired thug and I wearily check the other two. One is still out cold, but the other is squirming, trying to get his hands undone. I know better and a soft chuckle escapes me. You come back to me, carrying your sopping coat.

The third thug, the woman, is gone. Probably hared out towards the next county by now. The rock she attempted to knock me out with is still there. I pick it up and you give a low whistle. We don't have to talk about who was lucky tonight, do we? The rain has all but stopped now and the forest around us is still dark. But not the same kind of dark as earlier, this one is flecked with gray and I can make out your face now. Water drips from your coat and the ground is a saturated sponge beneath our feet. We head back up the trail we followed to get here. It seems shorter this time. We climb into the posh black sedan with our muddy footwear. I guess things like this bothered me once, long ago, but not now.

I pull the key out of my now skin-tight jeans pocket. I listen for the engine to come to life and flip on the heater. I turn the vents toward you, I'll be alright for the ride home. You have nothing extra to burn for fuel and you are already shivering. Before I put the car in gear, I note the tiny droplets of water from your hair slowly running down your face. The gray upholstery on the headrest is black from you. You have thrown the coat on the backseat. It will probably stain the gray material. I don't care. Everything I care about is sitting beside me, alive. And your face is alive at this moment. Though weary, you smile for me. You begin to ramble on and I shift the gears.

You admit to underestimating them, but all that matters is the result. The final piece of the puzzle. As I pull away from the shoulder, I can see flashing lights in the slowly greying darkness. The light of a new dawn is soft around us. I drive us toward home and rest and a hot meal. Your eyes have closed, showing me your trust. Your head is tilted against the headrest. I scan the road quickly and look back to you. It is such a simple thing, really. Just being alive is so very simple and yet so complex. My mind reels as I drive, watching the road ahead for danger. As I always do when you are with me. We are only about an hour out of the city, so you can rest now.

Tomorrow I will describe it all in detail to those who care to know. Except for this. I glance over at you, your face relaxed, your hands lying on your thighs. Rainwater still drips from your hair, it shines from the rays of the rising sun. It fills up my heart. This I keep to myself. It is something I cannot share, it is for me alone. I smile through the windshield and think about _home_.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really not sure what this is, but it happened and here you go: actually that's a lie. But it did go a totally different direction than intended. Did I mention I love comments?


End file.
